


you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins

by monanotlisa



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcshep_match, Drama, M/M, Team, Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-14
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sexbot story <i>sans</i> sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [because falling's not the problem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/143085) by [monanotlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa). 



> This tale is unfinished and -even; I had to let it go (but loved some parts of it too much not to post).
> 
> A prequel -- of sorts -- to "falling's not the problem".

"The sky's still burning."

Of course. Of course John Sheppard would manage to make that sentence sound almost reverent, as if that particular phenomenon were not a sign of the most recent catastrophe.

Okay, small catastrophe, and never mind that oxymoron because Rodney and his city may be physically safe - if narrowly missed - but he's still quite busy squatting out here on the North Pier trying to extract from a large heap of silvery-matte metal parts what he hopes is the ship's black box and not some alien's oversize bento. But he obligingly cranes his head and looks up at the spiralling trail of smoke above them, the rump of the foreign ship sinking slowly, very slowly into the ocean, and the floating pieces of wreckage that are on fire in front, to the side, and basically everywhere around the pier. Everywhere around Atlantis.

"Yeah, well, so's the water." Maybe, possibly Rodney's acting a little too casual there.

John turns around with a hip-swing and looks at Rodney with that little smirk he probably thinks is very suave but only serves to make him look like the dork he is. Suddenly he straightens his posture and gives a curt nod, levity dropping away.

"Elizabeth," Rodney says, purposefully without looking behind him, "what's up, and what did Zelenka say about where we stand, scientifically?"

"No life-signs, and thanks to your latest round of modifications" - so the Ascension machine was good for something after all - "we could track back that there never was any life on board this particular ship. Radek hazarded the guess it was merely a cargo vessel."

"Dunno. It wasn't very big," Sheppard says.

Rodney's about to tell Sheppard that no matter what he heard back in the locker room, size doesn't necessarily matter, but Elizabeth gets down to the point, which the pragmatist in him does appreciate. "A life support system on an interstellar ship alone generally takes up more space than the overall length of this one."

More footsteps, and is it getting crowded here, or what? It's a wide pier, but this large northern one was filling up with the technicians, engineers, and ubiquitous Marines even before  
Ronon and Teyla arrived.

Ronon's hand is resting, gently, over his gun, Rodney notes, but he doesn't look worried.

Teyla doesn't either - no, wait; now she does, scanning the surface of the ocean. "Elizabeth, how sure are you about the life-sign readings?"

"Why?" John's drawl doesn't sound amused any more.

"Because there is a body in the water."

That's surprising; that Ronon is immediately in the water, grabbing said body, and heaving it upwards into the hastily helping hands of the Marines in rapid succession, less so.

"Jesus Christ," Sheppard breathes, falling to his knees next to the naked and wet guy, going for CPR. Rodney can hear Elizabeth call for medical help and alert Carson in the infirmary. Teyla - huh, Teyla only stares down at the scene. John comes up for air, face tight and and a little angry, as he always seems when he's scared or feels helpless. "He's cold, Elizabeth, no breathing or heartbeat or - he's dead."

But the guy doesn't look it. _As if he were only resting_ is one of those phrases Rodney has always found far more creepy than calming, but it's completely accurate: this spaceship-wrecked guy still has a slight blush on his cheeks, lashes fanning out gently across his golden-tanned cheeks, his perfect lips slightly parted -

"No, John. He just isn't alive." Teyla's back in the action, putting a hand on Sheppard's shoulder. The fact Sheppard doesn't startle at that only underlines he's, well, taking this situation to heart. "He hasn't ever been."

"Shit; is this - " John reels back, and from the rapid-succession clicking, at least four Marines are training their weapons on the prone form in front of them. They're good, but Rodney is better.

"Not a replicator." Rodney didn't know he's held that breath until he lets it go, audibly, "Not human, but definitely not a replicator either. Totally different readings."

He turns the sensor off.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Ronon says, and now there's wonder in his voice. "It's an _animechanicus_."

He hasn't quite finished speaking when the first crate - wood, laquered and gleaming, breaks the surface of the water with a slight _plop_.

::

"So basically, we've rescued an army of robots?"

John tries to be laconic about it, but it's kind of an uphill battle because hey, _robots_!

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair, looking over the three of them, from John to Ronon to Teyla, at everyone in their little half-circle around her desk. "Army?"

That had sounded better in his head than elsewhere. "Okay, we've rescued six robots - so far." Rodney's not here, but John glances at Ronon and Teyla, both of whom seem, for once, almost as thrilled as he is about shit he's been carrying around in his heart since he was a kid.

"Six can be be an army," Ronon says, "Depends on who tells the story afterwards." He manages to be deadpan throughout - well, _almost_ ; he grins a little on the last word.

"I think all Ronon and John mean to convey is that it's quite wonderful to see old stories come to life before our eyes." Teyla's full-on smiling. "I must confess seeing - _robots_ , as you call them is unexpected, even after all the things we have experienced ."

Elizabeth nods. "Opening that crate was, for me, perhaps not the semi-religious experience it seems to have been for SGA-1," she flashes them a wry smile, "but I must say it was exciting, even with the robot powered off. Which is probably for the best at this point. Teyla and Ronon, we should discuss what you know about your Pegasus _animechanici_. This opportunity has literally fallen into our laps, and we should make the most out of it - very carefully, of course ."

John is hoping for just that. He looks left, and lefter. Oh yeah, Ronon and Teyla are hoping to check out some robots, all right.

"We would not want to endanger Atlantis," Teyla says, and the _but_ can be seen coming from a mile away, "but, as you say, Elizabeth: This appears to be a unique chance to research these curious creations and their origin."

"Science." John makes sure to add earnestness to his nod. "You're always all for it, Elizabeth ."

Ronon clears his throat, voice rumbling lower than usual, and - hey, is he _looking at Elizabeth from under his lashes_? "I'll be making sure nothing bad happens, Elizabeth. Trust me."

"Thank you all for your input." Elizabeth's look tells John more clearly than her words that she thinks they're all awfully cute. "Although they are all inactive, we should not leave any of them alone unless locked up; there should always be a human nearby. I will personally check on the one in the crate we already opened." She steeples her hands. "The one we pulled from the water, the one Rodney is working on currently, should be well-guarded too. I trust you, John, and you, Ronon, to install the aforementioned safety protocols." _And not break them_ yourself _all the time._

John turns briefly to Ronon, who nods. _Understood._

One minute later, they're purposefully striding towards the lab section. Teyla's jostling a little, only she's so graceful John can't do much against it without looking like an oaf.

The main lab's pretty crowded given the supposed danger, but John's not surprised. A glance around shows that half the Atlantis expedition milling about, some in the door-frame.

John lets Ronon plow his way through to the middle of the room where Rodney is standing, his shoulders sloping dejectedly, some lab tech petting him consolingly. "Hey Rodney," John drawls, but who's he kidding; he only has eyes for the robot on the - wait, why is the steel table empty? "Where's Matt?"

" _Matt?_ Oh, for - actually, go ahead and name it. Take it off my hands while you're at it." Rodney frowns, reaches up, and pushes the guy's arm away. Because, well, it's the robot, Matt, not a lab tech. The fact the bot's clothed really threw John, who remembers him naked as the day he was constructed. _It_ was constructed.

The white coat must be one of Rodney's extras and it's a little big on the robot, who's muscular but slender. Regular, exaggeratedly handsome features. Dark brown hair and bright green eyes, plus the straightest teeth John has ever seen. But really, it's the ears that should have given John a clue first: they're far too normal-shaped.

Up close and without adrenaline clouding his perception, John can see what Teyla saw on the pier: that this is not a human. The robot's pretty far out of the Uncanny Valley on their side, John must give it to the creators, but still. For one thing, although awake - active now, its face still lacks expression.

What John doesn't quite get is the fact that Matt keeps turning towards Rodney, eyeing him with the kind of attention usually reserved for pretty strong emotions. Definitely not dreaming of electric sheep there. John doesn't know; maybe Matt's confused? Scared? Wait, no: it's a robot. There are a lot of people in here - scientists, soldiers, folks John knows for a fact are _not_ on today's duty roster. Cadman, to name just one of the onlookers, is jotted down for a three-day vacation, which usually doesn't involve lab space "except when there are explosives to be handled, of course.

"You know what?" he says to the room-at-large, managing to look at everybody yet no one in particular, "why don't you give us all some space? Ronon, Teyla, you stay. Everybody else whose lab this isn't - go."

Gotta love the military because they do, and take care that the rest do too.

When he's finished talking, Rodney is blinking at him with a strange expression on his face. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just half-expected you to tell them all science isn't a spectator sport."

"Well, it isn't." John shrugs and notes that, Christ, the robot is inching closer to Rodney _again_? Before he can step in, Ronon's there, though: in its personal space, forcing Matt to step back. Well, at least it seems to be observing the Second Law. That's nice, in the way that anything else would be unacceptable.

Teyla is talking quietly to Rodney, a hand on his arm. John can't make out her words, but Rodney is by turns shaking his head and and nodding. "- no, you're right, that's probably the best course of action. Hey!" Rodney waves at Matt. "You, sit down on the table again."

The robot obeys, not taking its too-luminous eyes off McKay.

"It doesn't seem to be able to talk, by the way." Rodney glances over at Ronon. "When I checked its programming, there are no spoken language modules, although of course it's perfectly able to process whatever we - or anyone else human - tells it: simple subroutine of the gate technology."

"Does this mean whoever built it has mastered Ancient technology?" Teyla, curious.

"No, not at all; that tech is easily bastardised. Programming-wise, it's only one step above popping the babelfish - uh, never mind."

Ronon is still eyeing Matt, but now it's a lot less threatening. More... pondering. "They talk in some of the stories."

"Huh." Rodney runs a hand through his hair. "Talking is clearly beyond this one's capacities. Although speaking of capacities, it's...very life-like in design." John's not sure why Rodney looks quite so pinched at the last sentence.

"They talk in some of the older stories," Teyla adds. "The ones you'd call fairy-tales." She's used the English word there, John thinks, with only the tiniest glitch before the gate technology picks up again - if you didn't know, you wouldn't notice. She'd grown impatient with the idiotic and often sense-free phrasing of the automatic translator roughly three days into their acquaintance, and by now has mastered an array of English words that'd probably put a lot of folks at home to shame. But then again, so has Ronon, and maybe that's how all Pegasus people do it, all the time? "Ronon, did Sateda -"

"We heard of them, yeah. Down in Geealha, a city-state island south of the capital, there was a rich industrialist who was rumoured to own a dozen robots."

"Rumoured?" Rodney frowns. "Why would this not be something to proclaim to all the world - or, what, am I missing a key bit of Satedan cultural knowledge here?"

Ronon just raises an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, McKay. All Satedans everywhere thought robots were violating the laws of nature."

"Oh." Rodney's wide-eyed expression is priceless. John's a fucking bastard, he knows it, but he just grins and says nothing.

Teyla does instead. "Rodney, I feel quite distinctly that Ronon is pulling your leg."

"Right; ha-ha-you're-all-so-funny." Rodney's cheeks are a little red, but he's not who he was when they met; this can't distract him from his train of thought. Rodney runs on adamantium rails these days. "Honestly, why not display them openly?"

"Maybe the rumours about those robots were true." Ronon tugs at his beard, then jerks his head towards the robot. "Story was he used them for really weird sex."

"Huh." Rodney blinks. "Didn't you occasionally imply your society was open-minded?"

"Fucking humans isn't the same as fucking robots." Ronon says flatly. He has a good point there, John thinks. A damn good point. "And weird sex is weird sex ."

What does _weird sex_ even mean? But John doesn't much feel like opening that can of worms, so he keeps his mouth the hell shut.

"I should probably contribute that I have only ever heard such a thing once," Teyla cuts in, mercifully. "In the tales I encountered - from the times of the Ancestors to most recent ones - robots were usually servants: doing household chores, watching your children, or your spouses." She looks distinctly unhappy at that last bit, but John doesn't feel like getting into the despicable habits of certain Pegasus cultures either; he kinda has no leg to stand on, anyway. "They were usually guardians and repairmen and street-sweepers; it is not as if they were always constructed to give humans sexual pleasure."

Rodney coughs. "Well, I don't know about models varying from time period to time period, or culture to culture; once you have the know-how and technology, they can obviously be built for different purposes. Just, this one?" John looks at Matt, who's - check - still staring at Rodney. "I guess it's all in the name of science?"

And he steps up to the table, walks right into Matt's impersonal space. "I order you to do what you were built to do."

For a moment, John doesn't know whether to laugh or cry because oh, _McKay_. Going all Invisible Man on them. Ronon also tensing up, as if to draw a gun or jump into the fray. Even Teyla makes a slight forward motion, hesitates just short of reaching Rodney and Matt the robot.

Who smiles, and not even a robotic smile. It must be a trick of the light or, more likely, a feat of technology. It hops off the table and slides to its knees in front of Rodney, hands on his button fly before McKay has the time to say 'blowjob', and the robot's already wetting its lips with its tongue, and that's just -

"Get the fuck away from him," John snarls, and the robot stills: on his knees, hands coming to rest high on Rodney's thighs, right at his crotch. Its hands - large, masculine - are still framing Rodney's... package, and the hopeful expression on its face would be funny, only it's not. It's really, really not. The disturbing thing, well, one of them, is that its expression just freezes like that and it doesn't so much as twitch.

"Um, thanks?" Rodney doesn't sound too sure, and what the hell is up with _that_?

John bites his tongue, hard, then glances at Ronon and Teyla just to check he's not the only one majorly creeped out here. Ronon definitely looks as if he doesn't need to see this at all. Teyla seems more unhappy than disturbed.

"Well, I guess we have established this one's purpose. I, uh. There's one question - among others, I mean; it's just very easily answered _ad hoc_." He looks around, and John doesn't get it - doesn't get why Rodney isn't a little more What The Fuck? about this whole thing. "One of you should try this too."

"What?" John really has to get his fuses checked. Seems they're a little short.

Teyla, however, nods. "Certainly." She approaches the robot, wary but determined. "Get up." It does and turns its head towards her, but its body is still facing Rodney. "Pleasure me."

The words hit John low in the gut like a truckload of dynamite. He doesn't usually think of Teyla That Way, but boy, now he is, and he'd bet his golf set on the fact Ronon and Rodney are too. Yeah, Ronon's swallowing, visibly, and Rodney's eyes are little glazed over.

But the robot doesn't react. It zooms in on Teyla briefly, true, but immediately looks back at Rodney.

"That answers it." Rodney nods, slowly, stepping back and eyeing the robot critically. "When I ran all the tests, I activated his system; upon this, all his circuits started routing to me."

"Whoa, slow down." John knows he's staring, but tough luck. "You're saying it's now set to 'Rodney McKay'?"

"'It'? What happened to 'Matt'?" Rodney's eyebrows shoot up. "But yes. Essentially, it's imprinted on me. Like a baby duck."

"A baby duck with a cock!"

"Well, there's that." Rodney _still_ doesn't look freaked. "Also, while I can't deny it's majorly creepy in context, did you know that mallards -"

"John, Rodney." Teyla, delicately. "Perhaps we should take these findings to Elizabeth now?"

Rodney, eyebrows raised, nods and looks at John with the kind of expression usually reserved for planets with stone-age civilisations, when all John wants is to guarantee the safety and _fucking personal liberty of one of his team-mates_.

"Good idea," Ronon says, and why the fuck is he sounding so quiet too?

But they leave - leave the robot in the lab, and John tells the Marine at the door to not let the robot out.

Twice.

::

After they've briefed Elizabeth, Rodney says his goodbyes and heads for the lab.

A certain pesky colonel catches up with him between walkways six and seven before he can get there and doesn't even pretend to have been merely strolling in the same direction. "McKay, where you going?"

Rodney keeps walking because why not? "To the weekly Stitch'n Bitch in Common Room number five, where Cadman is bringing her famous home-baked chocolate-chip cookies and Miko plans to play the ukulele." As usual, Sheppard's not easily baited, but this time he doesn't smirk but instead frowns at Rodney, which seems more than a slight change from the initial robot discovery that had him basically bouncing on his toes. "John, you know as well as I do that I'm returning to the lab for further testing."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Sheppard looks a little taken aback at his own words, to his defence, but Rodney's just not the kind of guy to let things go gracefully "or any other way, to be perfectly honest).

He stops dead in his tracks and faces Sheppard. "Okay, fine; when did I miss someone pissing in your afternoon coffee? We have a scientific marvel on our hands, so excuse me if I'm focusing on the aspects thereof that go beyond semi-random bits of code dealing with activities of the more physical sort."

"Jesus, McKay." John's voice is low and tight, and he steps a little closer, using their actually almost negligible height difference to his advantage. "I'm responsible for your well-being, which is sorta severely compromised if you have sexbots running around and molesting you at every turn."

Rodney feels a flush creeping over face and neck, but hell, it doesn't look like Sheppard is unaffected either. "First, there is only one _sexbot_ ; second, it's not molesting me when I don't tell it so; and third, _overreacting, much, John?_ Is it really so unbearable that some creation of this or any other galaxy, for that matter, might even remotely act as if they found me attractive?"

Okay, that shuts Sheppard up, because he's just mutely opening his mouth and closing it again. Rodney's no idiot; he's been there with Alina and Norina and more than three other - okay, four - Atlantis women, and the thing is, so has Sheppard. Every damn time.

"Fine, McKay. But Ronon will keep an eye on the robot during the experiments." Rodney guesses he can be happy Sheppard refrained from adding double entendre to the word 'experiments'. "We did promise Elizabeth." Which so clearly isn't the true reason, Rodney thinks, although it doesn't hurt that this time around her order doesn't contradict Lt. Colonel Sheppard's plans.

In any case, Sheppard insists they wait for Ronon before entering the lab, and stands there, hands on his hips, until Ronon strolls around the corner.

Who'd have thought that this wacky robot adventure would be bringing out the crazy in Sheppard? Give the man huge whales that might in theory be dangerous in certain circumstances, and he'll drag you under the sea for a closer look at them. Or happen to be almost-dying, and he'll tear up right in front of you, wobbly voice and bitten lip included; not that Rodney hadn't felt this episode was touching too. But God forbid there's sex for Rodney McKay somewhere on the horizon, which, hel-lo, he wouldn't even have gone through with it. Well, probably not. It'd compromise his scientific integrity during the test phase.

Maybe Sheppard's just been in Pegasus too long and is experiencing his long-overdue crack-up and anything would have triggered it. Maybe he's just a cockblocking son of a bitch. Rodney decides to ignore him and his craziness.

In the lab, with the robot , Rodney quickly finds he's not in the mood to deal with its blank stare.

"Lie down."

The bot does so as if it was made for it, Rodney thinks. It's not hard to find the off-switch located behind the left ear "thankfully that's where it is). Ronon looks on, and Rodney can't quite tell whether he's disappointed or approving. Maybe Ronon doesn't know himself. His secret is that no one can tell, Rodney thinks, and everyone always assumes the worst, or the best, depending.

Time to see what holds the world together from within.

Cables, it turns out: wires and plastics and circuits, and Rodney's torn between fascination and contempt. On the outside, this thing's solid work, an android most people on Earth would still consider science-fiction, or at least future tech. On the inside?

"Looks like a mess." Ronon says. "Kinda jury-rigged."

He's summing up Rodney's expert opinion, to be honest. Why would the the creators just grab whatever they happen to have lying around instead of doing a clean job with new parts?

Ronon draws his gun ""Hey!" - "Calm down, McKay. I'm careful.") and pokes its muzzle into the assortment of parts. Nudges the left foot, its metal pens and bridges. Then Ronon presses his gun, still gently, into the open metal prongs that are the robot's hands when covered by the soft plastic. They don't move, specifically don't do the snapping-closed you'd expect in the horror film Rodney sometimes feels his life has turned into. "So how's it work?"

"What, energy-source-wise?" Ronon nods, so Rodney leans in and puts his own head next to Ronon's, peering at the various piles of metal pieces. "They actually, honestly run on _batteries_!? Batteries are -"

"I know what batteries are."

"Right, you do." Rodney choses to nod at that but still skip the specifics. "Imagine the ones you know, and then imagine them on steroids. On the most basic level? The batteries powering these robots are bigger and better, if obviously still limited: once the electrochemical reaction is exhausted, so's the bot, if you will." He runs a finger along the nearest wire. "I wonder how long the charge in this one will even last."

"Funny little thing," Ronon says, then raising a questioning eyebrow. "Can you put it back together?"

Rodney gives Ronon what he hopes is a long and _hard_ look. "I built a nuclear bomb when I was in grade school. Sans fissionable material, admittedly, but you would never know that from the way the CIA reacted."

"Did it work?"

"I didn't have - no."

"Don't care even then." Ronon smiles, and Rodney sighs. Of course not.

The fact that Rodney's back in his usual lab with Zelenka and Simpson and Oyebode and Miko within half an hour is not necessarily saying the robots' creators were simplistic in their robotics; it may simply be that Rodney's a genius.

A genius who knows the next step is to play with the black box from the transport vessel.

Simpson gets to call the Team in just before bed-time: they've found out all there is to find out. Which isn't satisfying, but Rodney - never mind his so-called colleagues, most of whom are yawning and filing out - can't help it. Sometimes a black box is just a black box.

John, Ronon, Teyla, and Elizabeth listen to Simpson's summary, with Elizabeth lightly but rhythmically tapping her fingers on the black box, perhaps hoping it'll be more forthcoming with its secrets after a massage . "Doctor Simpson, if you say there has in fact been partial in-flight data stored, why can't we trace the ship back to its planet of origin?"

Rodney cuts in, "We could trace it back to its PoO if there were any. Which there obviously isn't, as my clever use of the subjunctive mood there just showed."

"Wait, so the black box has been manipulated?" John's forehead displays some impressive wrinkles there. Not that this seems any different from his other facial expressions in the recent past.

"I didn't say that - all I meant was that _there is no fixed point of departure_." Rodney rolls his eyes. Hey, it _has_ been a long day.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth says, cutting through elegantly yet effectively, as always when she uses that particular moniker, "as much as I'd rather talk to the creators, surely the recipients will also be of help. They may not know everything about the bots, but they're bound to know who manufactured them."

"That we've already checked and cross-referenced." Simpson's continuously, repetitively twisting little strands of her hair. "PX3-299 ."

Elizabeth looks at Teyla. "That cool-climate world with the mountain full of platinum mines and the...very extended royal family's castle on top of it?"

"Asvaldra." Teyla nods measuredly. "I had never been there myself, as it has a space gate, but I know of it. As a destination, it does not surprise me."

"Atlantis was discussing offers of a trade treaty for minor amounts of the metal at some later point." Elizabeth frowns. "I presume we can stop considering this now."

A nod from Simpson, who finally, thankfully, lets go of her locks. "Yes, it was culled to extinction three days ago; the report from SGA-2 checking in again just hit the database. Lorne said it wasn't pretty but that the population - outside said royal family - had been small."

Ronon looks away at that, and Elizabeth closes her eyes for a second. "That doesn't make it better." After a deep breath, she continues, "And the Wraith destroying the castle stopped a signal?"

Elizabeth doesn't lead Atlantis because she has a pretty head of hair. Rodney knows that, but it doesn't hurt to be reminded they have someone at the helm who, while she may not be able to grasp the finer points of astrophysics, but gets, well, pretty much everything else. "Close enough," he says, "the vessel didn't have an advanced guidance system but made use of a sort of homing beacon. Probably handed over to the royal family when the deal for the bots was made."

Rodney decides to swallow his last sentence about this being very clearly a dead end. Puns are for linguists, anyway.

"That settles this issue, at least." Elizabeth looks at them all. "You don't need me to tell you it's been a long day."

28-hour days are usually not long enough, but Rodney feels she's not entirely wrong tonight. His lower back is throbbing in tandem with his heartbeats, and his eyes feel like the Atacama.

On their way to the sleeping quarters, Sheppard falls into step next to him, and for a moment Rodney feels annoyance rise: away from the robot, he hardly needs a chaperone. But then he looks at Sheppard's face, closely, and the feeling disperses as quickly as it had come.

::

The radio crackles to life at 0647, just when they're into their third lap.

John comes to a halt, motions to Ronon, and taps the mike. "Sheppard here, what is it?"

 _"John."_ Elizabeth, and she doesn't sound cheerful. At all.  </i>"I think we have a problem."</i>

Damn. He knew it from the start.

When Ronon and he reach the storage lab, he's not even all that surprised to find another robot - male, blond and strapping; it would be just that - standing next to Elizabeth and gazing at her. To the side, near the wall, there's one open crate, its lid fallen completely off.

"Hey," he says, making sure that the flabbergasted Marine - Lt. Di Co , still a rookie - has the situation under control, and also a gun.

Elizabeth runs a hand through her - still damp - hair. "John, Ronon -"

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," Ronon says, "I can hold him back if you want me to."

"What?" Elizabeth blinks, then glances at the robot. "Oh, the bot. No, I meant -"

"I'm up, I'm up!" Rodney is barrelling through the door, eyes still sleep-small and hair all-flat one side; his shirt's unbuttoned, and is that a tiny bit of chest hair peeking out..? "Sorry, my shower didn't work properly, even though I told Pawlowski to fix the water pressure yesterday; no idea what she and the other engineers did instead - probably gambling beneath the pipes, again."

"Rodney," Elizabeth says very, very patiently, "didn't you say you connected the first bot to your circuits, ran a number of tests, and the electrical currents activated it?"

"Well, I couldn't conclusively prove a causal relationship between these acts, with only one robot present, but it was a little too close for mere correlation, so the assumption was sound at the time I made it." Rodney rubs sleep out of his right, then his left eye. "Why?"

She sighs and, wow, she's pale. Ronon looks at her too, wide-eyed, and steps a little closer as if to catch her. "Because I did no such thing, and I'm pretty sure no one else did either."

"Did you touch this one?" Ronon asks, softly, then glares at the offending robot.

Elizabeth raises her left eyebrow in answer. "All I did was open the crate while talking to Lt. Di Co here, making sure she wasn't too close but still kept her weapon trained on it. So much for simply checking on the bot ."

The bot turns towards her at that. _Not that kind of checking,_ John thinks, and also, _Ew._

"Oh." Rodney stares from the robot to Elizabeth to the crate in rapid succession. "Well, one way of activation doesn't preclude others; it's entirely possible the robots were not just de-activated by default but also hampered by the cold and the humidity of the ship and the water, respectively."

"It's pretty dry and warm in here." John says. Holy fuck, why didn't Rodney think of this earlier?

"Don't look at me like that!" Sometimes, McKay's psychic. Makes things easier for John, actually. "It's entirely reasonable to think one would at the very least need a power button to press; if I had been the one to fashion even moderately advanced sexbots, I would have sent a complex activation code - separately! - so as to prevent theft and misuse."

"Yeah, with the Pegasus postal service so reliable, that plan makes a lot of sense." John can't help it.

"Couldn't rely on codes. No common written language."

"Oh, like you need to understand something to use it," Rodney complains. "Look at every idiot with a laptop!"

Ronon turns to stare Rodney into silence. "Earth's no different. Wait." And Ronon walks over the next crate, wrenching it open before John has the time to say as much as _hey, monumentally stupid idea, buddy!_. Elizabeth holds up her arm, puts a finger over her lips, and oh, okay; maybe that's not the worst idea for a test.

A moment of silence, but when Ronon leans down over the crate, it doesn't even take five seconds for the robot to lean up until their noses are almost touching: a mirror image of the more disturbing sort, made no less so just because this one looks female, with short red curls and blue eyes and hell, are those _freckles_ someone painted with care all over the bridge of its nose? One of those freaky smiles spreads over its plastic face, and Ronon seems, for a moment, to struggle not to respond in kind. Genuinely human instinctive programming: also quite powerful.

"I see talking's entirely optional," Rodney mumbles.

"Like you'd know," John can't help himself in moments like this. And fuck; he's pretty sure he knows what Elizabeth is going to say before she even opens her mouth.

"It's dry and warm _everywhere_ in the city," Elizabeth says in exasperation. "And what I tried to tell you -- I radioed all security teams before you arrived, because there are crates floating in the water all around Atlantis."

Movement at the door, and this time it's Teyla. Although there's a glittering sheen on her skin, the parts not covered by her uniform, John would hazard it's not from a shower. Teyla's been running too, only not for exercise. "Elizabeth, I personally talked to engineers, xenosociologists, and kitchen staff," so she basically got all of Atlantis covered, "more crates have been dragged in by expedition members since yesterday. And they've been heeding your policy of not leaving them alone except when locked up."

"We didn't swear anyone to secrecy about the sex-bot thing, did we?" Sometimes, John just hates being The Man.

"No," Elizabeth says, and won't you look at that: she hates being The Man too right now.

They take a moment to stare at one another. Rodney swallows audibly. "So, what do we do now?"

"First, I make a city-wide announcements about the properties of these bots as we know so far. Rodney, a summary, please. No more than five bullet-points."

"But the complexity -"

"Five."

" _Fine_."

Elizabeth looks around. "I will meet you in Kate's office two hours from now."

::

"Look," Kate Heightmeyer says, calmly, "the horse is out of the barn, so to speak."

"More like vice versa, and the horse is already half-way in-"

"McKay," John says, warningly.

Whatever. Rodney decides shutting up is the best course of action, and more so because the two women are ignoring him anyway. He looks to the side. As ever, the view from Kate's window is breathtaking, in spite of the sculpture in the inner bay. It's not so much that it isn't elsewhere on Atlantis; it's just that he wonders how she snuck in and reserved this particular workspace when he knows that biologists have been clamouring for spaces with more natural light since the beginning. Rodney may not be a fan of fringe sciences, but they're still leagues ahead of the so-called disciplines of psychology or psychiatry.

"I'm not talking about the expedition members, for now," Elizabeth says with the kind of bluntness Rodney has actually always found sort of inspiring, "and I'm also not talking about any sexual acts per se."

Kate nods encouragingly. John grimaces at the word 'sexual'. Business as usual.

"I'm talking about these bots. Obviously, few people will actually take that final step of having sex with them," and now Sheppard's looking even more pinched, "but some might, and - they look so _human_. Are we really sure they have no consciousness, no free will that they're simply unable to express due to the the lack of language coding?"

Rodney zones in; that's totally his cue. "As much as your average-" Come to think of it, _toaster_ 's a really terrible simile given pop culture, "washing machine, and yes, I'm talking good ol' US-fashioned top-loader junk."

"They do respond to what we say and do Rodney," as if Rodney needed the reminder from John.

"Hmm, you clearly haven't had a good Canadian washing machine. Anyway, the fact is we're seeing mere programming routines. Yes, yes, I realise they probably look really advanced to all of you, but trust me when I say there's no mind inside these boxes - and please don't get me started on heart or soul."

Kate adapts an air of concentration, "Rodney raises the essential point - the lack of sentience and thus the absence of emotions."

"So this is not an issue of consent."

"Not on part of the robots, at any rate." Kate purses her lips. "Of course, we do not know how good the control over them is."

Okay, Rodney isn't especially interested in what scenarios Kate is thinking of there, but one thing he is not only interested in but knowledgeable about: "We do know that they respond to mere physical signals from humans - Ronon could make it draw back just by stepping up. Also, on a pure strength and structure level? Honestly, after taking the thing apart and checking, I wouldn't be too worried."

Kate and Elizabeth and John exchange looks at that. What?

"So assuming from that safety is not an issue -"

"Oh please, it's not -"

" _Thank you, Rodney._ On that premise, you don't feel this could have adverse effects on the Atlantis expedition, individually or as a whole?" Elizabeth slides to the front of her seat, closer to Kate sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

"I won't comment on any political consequences, but from my professional viewpoint?" Kate gives them her especially empathic face, which is probably taught in some 101 course at shrink college. "You could of course order everybody to turn his or her bot in immediately, but I suspect the effects of taking the sexbots away from people would be a lot of unhappiness and embarrassment. Magical as Atlantis may appear at first glance, it's a highly stressful environment, and people take their moments of pleasure and escape very seriously. Factor in admitting to wanting one of these sexbots, and I wouldn't be surprised if most people hid and denied having one."

Sheppard still looks vaguely pained, but when Rodney waggles his eyebrows at him, he at least looks a little more relaxed.

"You think people would take advantage of them?" Elizabeth, frowning.

Kate does smile at that. "Wording, Elizabeth. Would you say you take advantage of a sex toy? Purely linguistically, of course."

"Of course," Elizabeth says dryly. "I think I see where you're going: it's the potential."

"Yes. Certainly they could provide outlets of sexual expression, but mostly I'm thinking of the aspect that a bot would heighten the sense of personal freedom without infringing on one's role within this rigid systematic structure. If pressed, I would indeed argue they might be good for morale," Kate offers. "My report will reflect this recommendation."

"Ah, morale." Elizabeth sighs, clearly this close to ceding defeat. "Are you going to mention endorphins and the more physical benefits of such...de-stressing agents any time soon?"

"I was preparing to present them as my final trump card, to be honest."

Everyone's a comedian these days. Rodney stares out at the bay and idly runs through a few simulations pertaining to ZPMs as applied in robotics in his mind until John's radio crackles, making him murmur an apology to Elizabeth and Kate before heading out of the door.

Excellent. Rodney jumps up, adds his own vague mutterings, handwave included, and follows Sheppard.

In the hallway, power-walking, Sheppard eyes him sideways. "Suddenly developing an interest in the US military, McKay?"

"Hey," Rodney says, "reliable sources keep saying Uncle Sam wants me ."

Sheppard doesn't snort, but it's definitely a close thing. He does seem pretty focused on taking care of the issue at hand. "Lorne's told me there's just a bit of a situation in his office."

"You mean your office, the one you have Lorne use for all your paperwork?"

"Semantics, Rodney," John says mildly, rounding the last corner, "and hey, here we are. Lorne?"

"Sir, thanks for coming." Lorne stands up, pushing two stacks of forms out of the way so as to see them better. When they both look around curiously, he shakes his head. "You just missed Lieutenant O'Reilly. No worries; he's back in his quarters. I thought it was a better place than the rather public infirmary."

"What happened?"

"Came into my office about half an hour ago, pretty freaked out." Lorne waggles his eyebrows meaningfully. "I had to radio Carson to give him a mild sedative right here."

"Freaked out because -"

"Because of an encounter featuring a sexbot, sir." How Lorne can say this with a facial expression so politely blank Rodney doesn't know and never will. "A boybot."

Rodney crosses his arms in front of his chest, lifts his chin, and conveniently forgets he's not actually allowed to be here at all. "What, did he catch a male scientist with an even maler Ken doll _in flagrante_ and need his smelling salts?

"More like, he opened what he called 'his crate,' found what wasn't a Barbie, and the rest is confidential. However," Lorne clears his throat, "I'd argue this isn't a violation of the USMJ."

"Well then, let's hear it," Sheppard mutters, and he definitely doesn't seem half as easy-going about this as Lorne is. Of course, Lorne's from San Francisco; everybody knows they're practically Canadians already. Sheppard's East Coast, and old money to boot. His family probably still routinely disowns their lesbian daughters. When they have sex with robots. Huh, Rodney may have just weirded himself out.

"The thing is, we're not talking about sentient beings; these are several steps even below replicators: no hive consciousness, no true sense of self. Beyond what Doctor McKay's findings tell us about the very basic programming mimicking human behaviour, they're basically big dildos with bodies attached."

John chokes a little. Rodney claps him on the shoulder, perhaps not quite as suavely as he's hoped. His shoulder is warm, almost hot under Rodney's hand, which makes it even more sensible to draw it back as soon as John's breathing evenly again.

"Sir? Sex toys don't fall under any regulation; I've checked."

"Didn't know you were a speed-reader," John says dryly.

Knowing Lorne even as far as Rodney does, he is and he probably did, down to the fine print legalese at the bottom back of the last page of every military rulebook printed.

"Not at all, sir. I just happen to have this girlfriend, who -"

" _Dismissed, thank you._ " John looks as if he wished, desperately, that DADT applied to all sexual relationships ever, with everyone. With anything.

Lorne, wise as he is, just smiles cutely and disappears from his -- John's -- office .

Rodney does know better, and contrary to popular opinion that's true most of the time, but he feels that given the situation, he has to speak up, make his - and society-at-large's - point. "Honestly - and just to make sure we understand each other, I don't mean the 'robot' part of 'gay robot sex' - I don't know why you're so uptight about this."

Sheppard looks up, and for once, Rodney can't read him. Can't read his expression at all. "Would that be 'you, John' or 'you crazy US-Americans', McKay?"

"You, John. I already know your military's royally screwed up, seeing as I've worked for the US DoD for, oh, _decades_." Rodney lifts his chin. "You've seen Lorne just now. It's not that hard. Dealing with homosexuality within the US military structures in an, uh. Sensible manner."

John's face doesn't change. "Not hard at all. Gotcha."

Wait a moment; how can it be that _Rodney_ 's the one feeling like the idiot now?

"All I wanted to say -" but John's already nodding at him and leaving, out of the door of Lorne's - his - office before Rodney can finish the sentence, which is probably just as well seeing as Rodney wouldn't have quite known how to do so in the first place.

It's a good thing his social calendar's pretty full, Rodney thinks.

::

Thirty minutes later, Rodney's dressed up in four layers of protective gear - eat your heart out, Satedan warrior - and lets the door to the gym whoosh open.

He manages to slow enough to avoid bumping into a robot. It's the pretty red-head, the one he saw following Ronon around earlier. Rodney isn't even trying to remember their little pet names - he required months and months to not mangle Zelenka's and Miko's or now Oyebode's name. He's given up on the waves of newbie scientists, so there's even less sense in wasting valuable mental capacity on mere machines.

This robot's not doing any following, more like the opposite. It's slinking away. There's actually a clattering sound when it moves, and, hey -

"Was that its own arm it was holding?" Rodney asks Ronon, who's doing stretching exercises reserved for the end of sparring lessons, bantos sticks just a metre from his feet on the floor.

"Yup."

Yup, he says. Rodney sighs. "Not to critique your mighty martial arts, but did you have to hit it quite so hard?"

"I didn't." Ronon shrugs. "It's like you said: they're pretty weak. Not built for fighting."

"Why did you -"

"It looked as if it wanted to play."

"So you -"

"Sparred with it for a few rounds, took a break, came back and did that again." Which makes sense; most humans can't and won't take hours of working out with Ronon - well, not without stimulants or Wraith enzyme, anyway. "Went easy on it."

Rodney lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Right," he says. He knows all about Ronon's ideas of 'easy'. He's almost surprised the robot hasn't been reduced to a pile of sparking parts out of Warner Bros. cartoon.

He does find Ronon's bot when he exits the gym, though: fallen down mid-step, still in rigid walking position. One of the zoologists is poking at it curiously, holding up a glittering screw and the bit of wire it dangles from. Hard to tell how long it would've lasted otherwise, but just those few hours of sparring depleted its battery.

Not much of a sexbot, Rodney thinks, although at least in his own head he can quietly confess that marathons between the sheets aren't what he's interested in. It's no shame to be interested in quality, not quantity of time.

Still, he's beginning to suspect they've got the cheap Chinese junk knock-offs of the sexbot world.

::

John sets his tray down with a clunk in front of Elizabeth, which makes her jump. "Sorry," he says, and by way of apology slides a second - full - cup of Athosian tea across the table into her hands. "Long night?"

To his bafflement, she takes this as her cue to start an in-depth study of said tea cup. And - is that a blush?

Oh, _Jesus_. Now he's the one who kinda wants to bury his head in his hands.

Doesn't help that when he looks around, it seems to him there are people around him whose beatific smiles at oh-seven hundred are pretty suspect. John himself likes mornings - if not as much as, say, ferris wheels - but there's a difference between 'morning person' and 'person who fucked or got fucked by a sexbot last night.' He wishes he'd never had to observe it, frankly.

Yeah, it's probably best not to think about any of his co-workers in vivid technicolour detail. John checks his watch without seeing a single digit clearly. "You know what, Elizabeth, I should probably run."

He almost does too.

Since there's actually no paperwork to do and no mission on the schedule - they've had their hands pretty full, no pun intended, at least not on John's part - he realises too late that his feet are carrying him right to the labs again. Crap. Out of everyone he doesn't want to think about with one of those stupid sexbots, Rodney's at the top of his list. He doesn't let himself think of Teyla either, but that's because she know somehow and then John's pretty sure she would _hurt_ him.

The thing is, if Rodney's there, he's not elsewhere with...elsewhat. John peers through the doorframe. Well, there's Zelenka, arguing with Miko about blackbody temperatures, although given that it's Miko, 'arguing' seems a bit too strong. But then again, looking at the way Zelenka mutely opens and closes his mouth at her take on the Boltzmann constant: maybe not.

The figure walking from left to right through his line of vision is definitely not a scientist though. Or human. Matt the robot's in the lab, dressed in a scientist's uniform - also two sizes too big, making it look even more like a dress-up doll come to life - and carrying a cable. Then, empty-handed, it walks back from right to left. Returns with what looks like a fuse? Left-right. A small sphere of viscous amber liquid this time.

John's had enough; he's going in.

"Mc _Kay_?" So maybe his voice is getting a little high there, but that's just his - very manly - expression of disdain. "Why is your sexbot building a bomb in the corner?"

Zelenka grins, Miko frowns, and Oyebode looks startled, but all of them only do all these things until they realise it's him talking to Rodney. The scientists usually have the sense to stay out of their conversations.

"Oh, Matt?" Rodney's head pops out from behind the bench, the rest of his body following "not unexpectedly). "Colonel, I'll have you know what he's building is in fact a wave-particle duality processor."

"Isn't that just a little out of its mental league?" Okay, that comment does little to hide John's surprise. Not at Rodney putting the bot to good use, of course.

"Hah, but you forget: not out of mine. Naturally - or rather, artificially - their fine motor skills are excellent, so I simply told Matt exactly what to do and to return for more precise orders should his information at any point not be sufficient. So far, he's already cleaned up the lab," yeah, John knows all too well Rodney likes making others do that particular chore for him, "constructed a sonic screwdriver according to Oyebode's specifications - what can I say; she's a fan - and is now constructing the basic set-up of aforementioned high-energy processor." Rodney is _beaming_. He may not have gotten laid, but it seems getting the minion he's probably been wanting since he turned four works just as well.

"That's...nice," John says, and he means it, kinda. He prefers Rodney to share his toys, but this obviously isn't an option here.

Besides, John feels he wouldn't be good at sharing in this particular case.

::

Teyla, of course, is always good at sharing, although John wishes she did it with beer. At least she's serving him coffee instead of tea, freshly made in her pretty cool espresso machine that fits perfectly into the medium-sized niche by the window. The machine's a birthday gift from Rodney and has gotten a lot more play than the Team expected, which includes Rodney.

"I understand your misgivings, John," she says, and that's a mighty friendly way of describing his opinions on the sexbot issue just now.

::

No one has seen Cadman for the last three days. Come to think of it, Rodney muses -

same goes for the hunky one they've taken to calling "Josh ."


End file.
